It seems odd that a guy traveling across the land with his mules would need to buy gas. Sorta seems to defeat the whole reason to travel with a vehicle that gets most of its fuel from grass.
But, about twice a month, I’ll ease in to a gas station. Tie my mules up next to the gas pump. Put my credit cart in to the slot. Ignore all the motorists looking at me. And carefully, very carefully, fill my tank.
The tank I’m referring to is the fuel tank on my cook stove.
I gotta say, it’s a thrill pulling in to a gas station and filling up for less than a dollar.
Big thank you to the young lady who took the photos of me “fueling” mule Cracker. You’re a good sport!